


SB

by judgelinch



Category: Sengoku Basara
Genre: Bad English, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-19
Updated: 2016-04-27
Packaged: 2018-01-13 06:08:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1215511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/judgelinch/pseuds/judgelinch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fragment translated from the larger story where Hanbei is a coup expert, formerly employed by Nagamasa to overthrow his father. Under his current lord Hideyoshi, his duty is to convince Oda's whipping boy Mitsuhide of rebelling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Blasphemy

**Author's Note:**

Francis Xavier could not sleep. If he woke his companions and was asked where he was going in the night, Francis was ready to say, "My heart aches for this country, and I'm going to pray about the fate of Japan". But everybody was asleep in the mission headquarters, and Father Francis went outside unnoticed and walked to St. Andrew church. Fearless man! Francis claimed he was of course driven by the intention to save pagans' souls and share the best of religions in favor of the flock in their current life and in the afterlife, altruistically paving the way for future generations of colleagues - but Hashiba Hideyoshi assumed Xavier was simply driven out of the order, so that he had to leave the continent.

Missionary hurried through afterdark street. Drunken voices were heard singing:

Silence in the woods,  
Just tanuki is awake.  
He hung his balls on a branch -  
That's why tanuki is awake.

Francis Xavier should have stuck his forefingers in ears and darted past with a disgusted grimace, but he stopped and listened.

"But the translator sang the censored version, like, tanuki hung the moon on a branch. Come on, the moon...”

Finally Francis dragged to the church, took out his key – the lock was broken open. What would they want to steal here? Jesuit peered in. It was dark, quiet inside. He stepped between the rows of benches, floor creaked.

Right on the altar lay down two samurai in obscene position. Next to blasphemers were their weapons, so Francis withdrew. And the next day he told parishioners about the city of Sodom, strongly emphasizing that the sinners died under eruption - no wonder, no wonder there's so severe volcanic activity in Japan.

How could these two scoundrels know that Francis would come in the dead of night to pray in his workplace? In no way. So they decided to spit in god's soul, to desecrate the church with their exudations and sweaty cramps, since they can't talk back to their lord! Francis preached every day. Hostilities with Mori forces were soon to be resumed, and Nobunaga decided his samurai need a daily dose of god's word while they are sitting in Kyoto. They'll have rest in the campaign!

At yesterday's sermon Francis Xavier told samurai about repentance.

"To repent means "to change the path". Any sin is disobedience to god, manifestation of the rebellion, refusal to accept god in our lives. Repentance is a rejection of the insurgency, the act of surrender, recognition that god is our rightful lord and master, that our life belongs to him, that we are obliged to obey his commandments and are guilty of neglecting them”, Francis preached from the pulpit. "Forgiveness isn't achieved by formal, hypocritical repentance when a person formally confessed but has no intention to leave sin or contrition for sin, in which there is no hope for god's mercy. And now, servants of god, take some paper, brush, inkstone and record my words. This is very important."

Many rustled and bent down. Francis began to dictate:

"You can specify three features of genuine repentance. First! Repentance implies that we accept the responsibility for our sins - not the circumstances, not other people, but we are to blame and need forgiveness."

Nobunaga grimaced, remembering his sister's moans. If Christian god existed, he would have been put out of temper by endless cries of penitents – Oichi's brother knew it as nobody else. Turning to the servant, his highness flicked his fingers. Gold-plated skull of Azai Nagamasa was brought, sake was poured.

“Second. Repentance involves commitment to leave sin. We can not be sure that we get it right but we must have a firm intention and desire to stop sinning." Francis paused for everybody to write it down, and went on: "Repentance also means we believe that god wants to forgive and to accept us, and we rely on his mercy."

Francis wanted to exclaim, "Lord Nobunaga, why don't you write?" but bit his tongue. The man who sponsored Christian mission in Kyoto drank wine from the skull at the sermon. His pageboy Mori Ranmaru lucubrated kanji, sticking his tongue out with zeal, putting the paper on his knee. Even Akechi Mitsuhide bent down and wrote. Crouched in the last row so as not to obscure the vision and hearing for other samurai, Hashiba Hideyoshi dolefully hummed:

"Hanbei, write. I won't note down this nonsense."

"Hideyoshi-sama", worried Kanbei, “let me remove shackles, I'll write!"

"Rough it.”

"But the precis, Hideyoshi-sama. It's very important."

Giggles sounded. Francis gave Nobunaga a pained look. His highness turned and barked:

"Shut up, you bastards!" And more quietly: "I'll make of you a modern European army!"

Perhaps Hideyoshi refused to write not because of anger at gai-jins who came here to teach samurai that Abraham begat Isaac, Isaac begat Jacob - but because he just didn't know how to write. The audience couldn't make sure whether the former ashigaru was literate. Mitsuhide, for example, was convinced that Hideyoshi wasn't able to understand a single character. Instead of recording the sermon, he wrote a note and passed through the rows:

"Shigeharu-dono! How about shudo with me? Mitsuhide."

First they met in the most humiliating circumstances - when Mitsuhide asked Hashiba Hideyoshi where was his weapon. Hideyoshi pulled him from the saddle and began waving him like a rag over the riders' heads. With two fingers of his free hand he picked up his katana from its sheath, dropped Mitsuhide and tied a knot in his katana.

Mitsuhide's squad waited till their chief scrapes himself from tract and climbs on a horse, hissing through his teeth and rubbing his sore back. Hideyoshi's horsemen strode past, chuckling. A picturesque person in purple armor, bang over his eyes, loudly asked another picturesque person in mummy-like bandages, if it wasn't better for Mitsuhide to spill guts in the dust before the offender after such humiliation.

"That would be the most prudent," the mummy snuffled, scratching his bandaged cheek under the butterfly wing on his helmet.

A punished for whatever reason, hand-shackled samurai lost the reins, and Mitsuhide rolled from under hooves of his horse.

Another picturesque person, in a purple mask (an epidemic in Hideyoshi's retinue?), picked the mutilated katana with his whip-sword, closely looked at it (Mitsuhide stared at the metal junctions of his sword - what a fine job!) and dropped a sympathetic look at Mitsuhide, as if asking whether he wanted his weapon back.

Mitsuhide shook his head, grabbed the stirrup and pulled himself up. His men sat stone-faced, trying not to breathe, preventing their boss from taking it out on them, if there was no opportunity to get back at Gorilla - a nickname lord Nobunaga gave the peasant who made a brilliant military career because of his outstanding physique. And lately because of the talent acquisition. Mitsuhide had heard about his right hand, ingenious Takenaka Shigeharu Hanbei, who kicked Saito Tatsuoki from the Inabayama castle: "Lord couldn't cope with his duties up to the inability to work effectively with staff, and I arranged for his removal." Shigeharu resisted until Tatsuoki passed Mino to Nobunaga. Then this valuable collaborator moved under the wing of Nagamasa, but Sigeharu's new lord didn't live long. Hideyoshi took him, among other Nagamasa's orphaned vassals, when he conquered Omi for Nobunaga. "But now I have a superior who is able to cope with duties and is respectful to me." Mitsuhide heard Shigeharu refused to become a direct vassal of Nobunaga because of "severe moral situation". Under Gorilla, moral situation was apparently tolerable. However, Mitsuhide heard more plausible version – Nobunaga hadn't ever think of promoting Hanbei just because of his past successes in his native Mino.

Mitsuhide wanted to find out who was Hanbei among these picturesque personalities. And most likely he didn't notice him: the team brain is unlikely to dress provocatively.

As it turned out, Hanbei was the whip-sword bearer. Slender like a girl, white and purple colors - too bold, on the verge; lace mask emphasizes early graying hair. Questions about the mask stuck to Hanbei, like kappa jokes to Father Francis's tonsure.

Hanbei explained:

"When I was a child, I played war games with my lord's son. The boy... was injured. Lord blamed me and cut my face crosswise. My father then thanked lord for his mercy.”

"Who was your lord?"

"Saito Dosan!"

Ritual howls followed: "Ooooh, Dosan was a beast!" Hanbei nodded eagerly.

Hanbei was aware that the first - or one of the first - Mitsuhide's question would be painfully familiar asking about the mask. He wrote under his obscene proposal:

we can't be together  
my lord will be furious  
like wounded gull  
I'll be circling over your  
dead bones ~ Hanbei

And he handed the note through the rows.

The impromptu was slapdash - two missing syllables were replaced by signature, bad form, but Mitsuhide was delighted. The whole tanka! If Hanbei strongly objected, he wouldn't write a poem, even more so such long one. Mitsuhide turned around, laid eyes on Hanbei and kissed the note. Hanbei kept a straight face, but parishioners turned heads and chuckled - an escapade in the midst of a tedious sermon! Hideyoshi looked at Mitsuhide as at a madman, surprise rather than anger on his sideburned face. Father Francis ventriloquized:

"Repentance accompanies a Christian for all his life. Loss of penitential spirit means that a person simply leaves a spiritual path and steps on the path of perdition..." He felt sorry it was too early to voice an anti-shudo sermon – the natives haven't yet appreciated the gai-jin creed as much as being ready to abandon what the priest says. And he continued to teach the samurai that one must repent of sin thrice: first time - immediately after the commission of sin , the second - at bedtime, analyzing today's sins, and the third time while confessing to the priest.

When parishioners pulled out, Hideyoshi rushed among the first. Gorilla-like face blossomed with a dream to give Christians the same mayhem he took part in at Mii-dera. Hanbei decided to hold off, allowing the crowd to pass. Mitsuhide came along, licking him with an adoring gaze.

“Shigeharu-dono."

“You must understand", Hanbei said impatiently, fiddling with his tanto. Mitsuhide grinned, pretending he didn't understand, and Hanbei had to explain, suppressing a sigh: "If we start dating, my patron would be mostly displeased.”

With each public kick from the lord, with each stroke of a lord's fan on Mitsuhide's forehead, Gorilla gets confirmation: you can vent your anger on Mitsuhide, you just can. He's disadvantageous for Hideyoshi's level-headed subordinate.

"You must understand," Hanbei repeated. Purple glove touched gray one for a brief moment. Hanbei was all like: ”I don't mind but I serve him."

"No, I don't understand. Are you so close?" Mitsuhide questioned. With his superhuman size, Hideyoshi must be lonely.

"No. But I prefer not to irritate him."

Hanbei tried to speak gently, cautiously, but arrogance was breaking through, and his deliberate delicacy was swept away like a dam: he is the team brain, he is the only rational person here who sees through people, thinks hundred moves ahead and in all directions. His mind and body are adjusted and honed, his sharpest and fastest mind knows no hesitation, he doesn't stumble and makes no mistakes, he's a jeweler, he's a virtuoso! And around are blinkered fools who have traditions instead of brains in their heads. His appearance is a slap at the tardy gender dichotomy. He is so beautiful that goddesses pale before him and gods back away in their envy.

The crowd had thinned out. Hanbei and Mitsuhide finally rushed to the exit with no chance of getting trampled.

"Then we just need to keep out of his sight,” Mitsuhide said. "That is, out of anyone's.”

Hanbei began to recap the nearest hotspots but he appeared to meet a teetotaler.

"But come here", Mitsuhide happily grinned, turning, "to the godbox. We'll definitely not stumble upon anyone."

Night came. Hanbei wandered to St. Andrew church – but even under the moon he never parted with the mask.

"I dreamed about a man like you for all my life,” leeringly grinning, Mitsuhide whispered, resting both hands on the church door. His whole body pressed Hanbei against it.

Hanbei managed to combine the haughty aloofness ("It is you who needs this, not me, but so be it, I'll do you a favor. You asked for it – I let you satisfy me") and at the same time he shone under the kisses but couldn't get rid of a feeling of danger - Mitsuhide, with all his good intentions, exuded threat, gloat, unspoken "I'll tickle you to death", "I'll eat you".

Mitsuhide pulled out his wakizashi and picked the lock open.

"Silence in the woods...”, drunken voices sung nearby.

On the floor, benches and statues, trails of moonlight mirrored figures of saints from stained-glass windows. In silence, clatter of sandals on the floor seemed deafening - Hanbei knew no one takes off their shoes in a Christian church, and he tried to convince himself that no blasphemy should tickle nerves of sane, unprejudiced people – there should be no fun, let alone fear, but the whole situation thrilled Hanbei, and he was ashamed of this fun which felt like children's pranks serious Shigeharu didn't have enough when he was a boy. Though now he learned how children feel doing something forbidden - and this doat was a shame. The issue wasn't about blasphemy, nerves were taut because Mitsuhide walked behind him, breathing down his nape, and Hanbei felt his anticipating smile, waited for hugs and at the same time for some kind of trick - but he threw fear away, and for a moment it seemed he was afraid not of his companion but of... yonder chthonic god, the idol – which was even more shameful and ridiculous. His companion was at least armed and reputed as bloodthirsty - but superstition erupted in Hanbei's soul lest he admitted to himself he regretted his consent.

Assessing the furnishings, he concluded the couple of them won't fit on the bench. Possibly on the one nearest to the altar, hung over by the dying god.

Hanbei folded his clothes on the nearest bench, took off his wakizashi and even removed the mask, leaving only a shirt and a fundoshi. With shining eyes, smiling invitingly, he climbed at the altar. Mitsuhide counted his scars - cross on the face, line on his wrist, another on his shin. He had a lot more, but Hanbei wasn't a man he could confide that most of them were signs of torture. He can't say anything but "only stupid people could come to harm so many times". Mitsuhide so clearly imagined arrogant grimace on his pretty face he wanted to grab his gauntlet and smash the face he has just kissed, smudge chiseled features in a bloody mess with fragments of bones and knocked-out teeth, so that eyes would hang on cords. Then he'd get dressed and leave. Mitsuhide had to remind himself Hanbei hasn't yet humiliated him. This isn't yet an offender - this is just a body, fragile, waiting to open before him – didn't he want this? He shouldn't untimely hurt, no matter how he wanted to, he needed to think about how beautiful was Hanbei and how lucky he, Mitsuhide, was.

Francis peered in.

Mitsuhide could answer:

"It's like you, gaijins, shake hands, greeting a person. I'm so glad to meet my cousin" - but the Jesuit didn't pitch blasphemers out but prudently sped off - and spent the rest of the night polishing a sermon on the sin of Sodom, so the next day he could cry out from the pulpit:

"For the great apostle Paul said: "Do not lie with a man like with a woman! It is an abomination before God!"

As he uttered it, a shadow loomed over St. Andrew church. In the floating black spot with flapping hands stood Oichi in an obscenely short dress. Black hands fastened upon the building, shadow palms sprawled on the roof, clamped the windows.

Samurai jumped up and rushed to the exit, while others dived under benches. Francis Xavier jumped on the pulpit, hoicking up his cassock. Shadow hands pierced through running parishioners, and those clutched their stomachs with exclamations, some fell to their knees: "Death has come!" Others froze on the spot - shadows weren't looking for them and passed through their bodies without any harm.

Gorilla stepped forward. Smile bristled his sideburns around protruding jaw.

“Oichi-sama!" Hideyoshi admired. "Could you break the building?"

Demon queen of fifth heaven didn't consider it necessary to answer: apparently she could, but why?

Figuring if he was able to break the church, Hideyoshi decided he was, but would hurt his hands on the masonry, while hands were his only weapon. Sometimes in battle he grasped like a five men in his huge paw, as many in another, lifted them in the air and casually waved - then he cast bags with broken bones away.

How much force, Hideyoshi admired, a pity she's so small. He offered his hand. Oichi gracefully stepped on the giant's palm, sat down, spreading her hem. He raised her to his eyes and examined. Under pained wrinkle on the forehead and fatiguedly enfeebled eyebrows, in turbid eyes swirled the same darkness the shadow consisted of.

Black hand pinched his sideburns, tugged and tugged again. Hideyoshi risked to lose a piece of skin.

"Put down the lady,” demon king of sixth heaven barked. "You boor!”

Hideyoshi obeyed, made an excusing bow to Nobunaga, folding paws on his chest.

Oichi straightened like a broken doll, suspended by invisible threads, turned to her brother, looking around the church yard - in her dead eyes dawned a drop of comprehension. Black hands writhed like snakes and simultaneously like stems of predatory flowers. One fumbling hand finally found Mitsuhide, who was hiding behind the church door, and dragged him away. With a doomed look, Hanbei slowly waved him goodbye.

Mitsunari, Yoshitsugu and Kanbei came up to him.

"I see you are friends with Mitsuhide-dono!" Mitsunari's cracking voice was jealous.

"He's my cousin, and we've just met here..." Hanbei said and waited when someone blurts out, "Call of the blood."

"Call of the blood", Kanbei said.

"What a joy," Yoshitsugu spoke through the nose.

It has begun, Hanbei thought grimly. He must have stayed away from his dear cousin. Hanbei initially decided it would be unwise to miss the chance - where else he could find not an equal, of course (no one can compare with his the beauty and refinement, and all the more with his brilliance of mind), but at least somebody who wasn't a disgusting brain-dead ramrod - and now Hanbei had to admit that he willingly suppressed voice of reason which warned of risks.


	2. Aconite

Now Hanbei knew he shouldn’t be afraid of buggering himself up, as Hideyoshi delicately told. Hanbei couldn’t immediately come up with a refined synonym. Hideyoshi meant that friendship with Mitsuhide could make Hanbei fall out of lord’s favor. Nobunaga kept Mitsuhide like a mangy dog to set him at enemies, kick, and then shoot down. So far, Mitsuhide could not hasten his own death, finally take a rise out of his lord with excessive zeal, as in nonsensical murder of Yoshiaki¹, or with a bold and irreverent tone.

Then again, he could commit seppuku and leave Nobunaga a rebuking letter; he had a chance to start all over again in the next life under a new, probably more benevolent lord. But Mitsuhide was a coward, afraid to slit his belly. In his wanderings he stopped to believe in rebirth. He said that the transmigration of souls was a comforting tale.

And, of course, that his only consolation was the blood of the enemies and their pleas for mercy. Seeing the old proud warriors crawling on his knees was the only thing that could briefly entertain him.

Mitsuhide thought he sounded proud.

But Hanbei soon learned that in his loneliness Mitsuhide wanted to have a twin brother. An exact copy, a reflection. Hanbei became his reflection, allowing Mitsuhide do with him what he wanted, to see himself in him, to talk about his wanderings, from robbery to honest attempts to take on the menial work, about corporal punishments and job losses, most of the times for lippiness in front of the superiors, sometimes for insulting the lord himself, but in most places Mitsuhide was given lowly positions. One day, beaten and kicked out from the recruiting center, the ronin left a pile of corpses behind and was chased for a long time.

“I ran up to the dock, killed a boatman along with passengers, threw out the cargo and stole the boat. Didn’t have time to make holes in other boats, so... I had an arrow in right shoulder and boatman's pole in the hands. In the middle of the river I got shot again. I slowed down and they threw hooks and pulled me close. I tried at first to fight off with the pole. So, I was with two arrows in the body against four men. I had only a knife. Both boats overturned. With the last one, we grappled in the water, and there was two human heights deep. You can get I couldn’t take weapons from the corpses... and their clothes too. Once, when I had no rags, I plugged leaves in the wounds when I spent the night in the bush. I had to dive for some floater. I took his wrap-arounds and figured out I could cut off a hand, clean the bones and plug the wound with a condylus. There was once a time when I had just a book, Yellow Emperor’s Treatise of Acupuncture, and needles; I curved them and fastened the edges of the wound. I had just killed a needle therapist...”

Hanbei forbade himself to make fun of the plaintive bravado his newly discovered cousin had so much of; Hanbei showed no irritation, never rebuking his brother for incontinence, much as he would like to say that it is not befitting to wallow in your suffering and laugh ostensibly, rip the pieces of meat off your body and throw them in others’ faces in a silly, hysterical arrogance. And there’s no point in admiring other people's mastering the art of homicide and infliction of pain: the more of these outcries and more awkward pathos in them, the more obvious are your efforts to convince yourself that massacre is the only acceptable way to speak. And you could only make everyone realize that yo aren’t clever or composed - just broken and pained.

Hanbei repeated his gestures. Mitsuhide gratefully kissed his fingers - Hanbei answered in kind, lying under him, a look of sympathy, corners of his mouth slightly raised: "We are together, I'm glad I finally met you, I like everything you do to me, like to yourself, we are as one". He was watching the expression on his face. Mitsuhide should be on to him: Hanbei made him feel too easy and simple, too lucky - this understanding and supple could be only a woman, a property of yours. Hanbei wasn’t even his subordinate. He could refuse any time.

He would have refused if he decided Mitsuhide’s company could ruin his career - but his lord didn’t ridicule him. On the contrary, he approved.

“I hired you because you both are relatives”, Hideyoshi said. “Otherwise, I'd rather kick you out with such a backstory, thrice-ronin.” He moved the kotatsu aside, opened a hearth in the floor and plunged there a pack of recommendation letters from Hanbei’s former masters. He stirred a poker in the hearth, and the paper moldered on coals. It was clear that in the future Hanbei wouldn’t use these documents. Kicked out from this service, he wouldn’t be allowed to become a ronin again. He’d rather be sent to the seppuku backyard. “Handle your brother. Make sure that this crud doesn’t hang himself on the nearest branch. Our master digs his own grave with his hands.”

"Prove that you aren’t a junk like him" was left unsaid. Hideyoshi looked amused that both thrice-ronins flung into each other's arms even without his bossy kick; it meant the hectic would enthusiastically brainwash his dear brother, combining business with pleasure. Together they will soon convince Mitsuhide in benefits and support Hideyoshi can offer when presented with an opportunity to isolate and eliminate Nobunaga.

With these parting words he sent Hanbei to Fukuchiyama, rebuilt after the Ikkō-Ikki uprising, when the Akechi manor was burned and all households were cut to the last stoker. "How many children?" Hanbei asked. "Twenty-two. Yes, all girls, I can’t make boys", Mitsuhide bitterly laughed, and Hanbei said in response that he had boys, and both fell ill with him when he was a ronin; his youngest son died himself, and Hanbei killed the eldest, ending his agony².

Then they spent nights in the bushes and roadside ditches - Rokkaku Shotei expelled Hanbei from service, bidding good-bye with disappointment. "Recommendations of the young talent turned out to be zilch. I regret that I supplied your father with money and instructions", since the coup in Inabayama was made in the image and likeness of rebellion in Kannonjo. A year before, retainers sent Rokkaku father and son packing. Back home again, they continued to support anti-Saito action boys in Mino; this time they suggested to make the Saito survive what the Rokkaku themselves had been through. The Rokkaku were related to Toki family, and Shotei’s son Yoshiharu gave Takenaka Shigetora the "haru" syllable as a special gesture³. This character was the only thing that the penniless exile could keep as remembrance.

He did not have to go far: neighbors and eternal enemies of his former masters required soldiers. Asai Nagamasa aimed at Tanshu - the goal of the campaign was not only to obtain a region with an income of 500 thousand koku, but also to gain access to the sea: "I intend to fight piracy, struggling for justice!" As the fighter for justice fought for a pirate ship to pirate himself⁴, his deputy in Tamba found the Rokkaku, abbot Kennyo’s relatives, let emissaries of the True Pure Land School rush to Tamba through their domain. Wiping them out and pacifying the population was finally brought off only by Mitsuhide, Nobunaga’s governor.

In the service of Asai, when Hanbei cajoled his direct superior Higuchi Naofusa into giving him a short leave, he took his wife and baby to his parents and hasn’t seen them ever since. He didn’t really want to meet them - inconceivably for Mitsuhide. He talked about how lonely he felt. Own subordinates were his enemies, not to mention the equals; everybody waited for his fall ("... but didn’t do anything to speed it up", Hanbei mentally retorted thinking about the long-term confrontation between Katsuie and Hideyoshi which Nobunaga watched idly, like a performance). And Hanbei couldn’t tell himself that his brother was disgusting and pathetic in his pushiness - there was too much desperation in him, but also the danger of the same amount; and he dug into Hanbei, pouring him with pain, sharp and acrid.

Hideyoshi promised to send Hanbei to Kyoto⁵, but has not yet specified if Hanbei would stealthily watch the attack on the temple and run from Mitsuhide’s men combing the city (a job for a shinobi, not for a staff officer), or stand up under the flags with kikyou flowers and come out as a rebel. And it was difficult to predict where Mitsuhide would send him. Brother could lead them to the temple and set at Nobunaga. If they both get out alive from Honno, Mitsuhide must make sure Hanbei is still here until they meet with Hideyoshi and his army, and then Hanbei either falls in battle, shoulder to shoulder with his brother, or next to him on the scaffold... Hanbei shuddered. His brilliant mind will grow dim, his name will be dishonored, his son will inherit the same rotten five villages in Mino - no fame, no profit leaves behind the dead also-ran. He will need to ask some of Mitsuhide’s men - Mitsuhide himself will unlikely have the opportunity to finish his brother off when he runs through his own guts to escape from his own master’s executioners.

By the way, why did he warn Hanbei in advance? Did he want to check if Hanbei runs away?

As a ronin, Hanbei crawled on the grass along his children, collecting earthworms for curative extracts. Now he slept under a kusudama filled with essential oils; he was treated with vermilion, antler powder, crushed mole crickets, woad and peony broths, mushroom extracts, badger fat, "gods’ longevity pills" and other pills with as loud names; if the names were simple, as in the "lily pills", in fact there were at least eight plant components. Mitsuhide brought him a pouch of stone oil worth its weight in gold - a miracle drug scraped from the walls of the Chinese caves, never been found in Japan and brought from the mainland. Mitsuhide handed him the medicine, never forgetting to remind there were times when he was dying in the gutters with no money to go to pharmacy; he had to resort to robbery. Hanbei thanked brother, mentally adding: "If I outlive Nobunaga, I'm unlikely to live up to the consolidation".

Hanbei stood on the engava, a piece of shark fat in his work-worn butt. Rain dust came with the wind swaying spider lilies in rows along the pond, wet greens darkened in the twilight, and cold crept down Hanbei’s body at the sound of water gurgling down from the roof gutter. He coughed, clenching his fists so as not to smudge his makeup in an attempt to warm the icy fingers on his burning cheeks. Mitsuhide hugged and led him from the engava. Asking to fire a hearth in the middle of summer would be absurd, and Hanbei hoped to warm his cold feet in brother’s groin.

Mitsuhide brought him to a room where in the tokonoma hung a picture of Hanuman with Sanjeevini hill in his hand, and Hanbei wondered if the master of the house had one too much with the symbols of supporting the future kampaku⁶ - in the meantime, perhaps, deciding to prevent him from becoming one. And if Nobunaga believes his strategist when he confesses what Hideyoshi tampered him with, Hanbei can only hope to have time to commit suicide.

He swallowed the question whether Mitsuhide will help him in this.

But... On the Sanjeevini hill, Hanbei remembered, grew healing herbs. Perhaps Mitsuhide just wanted to say: "You will be cured".

Hanbei flung his hands over Mitsuhide’s shoulders, wrists crossed in loosely embrace, and threw back his head so that Mitsuhide could see his tongue tracing the upper row of teeth. Mitsuhide bent down to him and Hanbei went on the offensive, kissing and pulling on his lower lip. His hands rested on brother’s shoulders: Mitsuhide held him too tight, almost painfully, without letting move. Mitsuhide’s lips captured his tongue. He began to suck it, looking into Hanbei’s shining eyes - the other smiled, exposing his tongue so that Mitsuhide licked it. He closed his lips on Mitsuhide’s upper lip, then on lower one to warm his tongue in the mouth, and then exposed it again. Caressing each other, tongue tips intertwined in the cool air.

Hanbei arched in his arms, head cocked, the purple yukata opened, chest exposed to kisses. The look in Mitsuhide’s eyes was cheerful and rabid; he readily pressed his open mouth to Hanbei’s neck, sliding down to the navel and helping Hanbei rid of clothes. Sinking to his knees, he undid Hanbei’s belt and fundoshi. Fabric slid to the floor with a soft whisper, Mitsuhide freed the swollen cock, head glistening with pre-cum. He picked up the drop on a finger, tasted it and kissed the cock head, taking it into his lips, and Hanbei saw him smiling with a cock in the mouth - he glanced up from the floor, a happy, crazy and grateful stare. Hanbei grinned back and nervously put a hair strand behind his ear. It immediately fell back again. He was annoyed that Mitsuhide stripped him to the naked but had just untied his own belt, his protruding cock sticking up through the fabric.

The closest source of lubrication Mitsuhide found only in the bowl with the whale blubber, clicking his fingers on the wick. While Hanbei was cooling the blubber with a seething look, Mitsuhide took off his clothes. Helping Hanbei to the mat and putting him down, he dipped his finger in the oil, anointed his hole and spread Hanbei’s legs, licking the scrotum, down to the crotch and up the back side of the cock to pull the head in the mouth, one hand softly squeezing and pulling at balls. When Hanbei filled his mouth, Mitsuhide reached for the heap of clothes on the floor, pulled the string, never letting the head out of his mouth, and flung the string on the base of the still plump, but not as rigid cock. Hanbei opened his eyes, cried out, began to kick, but the advantage in power was not on his side - Mitsuhide straddled him and caught his fist in half way. His other hand grasped at Hanbei’s swollen, quivering cock. When the bloated head touched the crack between the buttocks, Hanbei finally stopped, sucking air loudly, almost with a groan. Dropping down on the shaft all the way in, Mitsuhide bent over, turned his brother’s head and spit the cum into his mouth, but still shed a bit, a trickle of saliva ran down his chin. Hanbei immediately spat out, but Mitsuhide didn’t allow him to dodge and Hanbei spun his head, trying to interrupt the kiss, break free and throw off the hands which squeezed his temples. Finally, he managed to get up a little. Gazes met - one clear, fierce and the second turbid, sneering. Mitsuhide’s smirk cracked open, defeated, ready to take in and swallow. Waiting a bit for some snag, Hanbei finally reached to pass a mess of saliva and sperm, and Mitsuhide drew a viscous liquid in, and the kiss was bitter with tenderness. Releasing Hanbei, Mitsuhide smiled at him, not parting his lips, mouth full, and Hanbei waited, uncertain what to do next. He ran his fingers over brother’s cheeks and chin, found a scratch from shaving, cupped his neck softly, but making it clear that at any moment he could break the neck-bone or choke him. Obedient movement of the Adam's apple under Hanbei’s hand was derailed by impish look. Mitsuhide smiled, now showing his teeth, tried to lick the stain of smeared lipstick and tossed his hair behind his back, lurching forward, and soon Hanbei’s fingers relaxed on his neck, slipped along the shoulders, chest and abdomen, engaged with the other’s cock, but Hanbei didn’t hold up long: his own clasped cock was bursting, the ache was not an annoyance but a necessity - to be squeezed, nipped, staggered and wiggled non-stop, faster and stronger. His hand unclenched and fell, and he lay there, shivering and trying to douse outcries in exhalations until Mitsuhide got up on his haunches. 

“Tired,” he said, rolling onto his back and griping his balls in a handful between outstretched legs.

When Hanbei finally dissolved the lace with trembling hands, he plunged into the body which leaned forward to meet him, strong, flexible, woven from veins and muscles, rugged with hillocks of scars, and he sunk in the embrace, in between the knees that clutched his thighs, in the gut that sucked him in - the gripple that squeezed juice from an overripe fruit.

Twilight deepened. Leaving his brother huddled on his side, Hanbei got up, found the flint and lit the wick in the bowl. Purple lace flew into a pile of used paper tissues. He had to fix the lipstick and backcomb the disheveled hair. Hanbei turned to ask Mitsuhide for a mirror. Mitsuhide lay on his face, listening to the aftertaste, stretched and spread out in the cool air. Hanbei sat down and leaned at Mitsuhide’s belly, stroking his long strong legs. Thick rain rustled outside.

Hanbei wished his brother died in battle, at least avoiding a public execution. There was no sense in advising Hideyoshi to choose imprisonment for shogun. Prison term was practiced by the gaijin as a special form of punishment. What’s okay for the gaijin won’t work here. If the shogun was a dynasty heir, not an usurper with a newly forged pedigree⁷... If he didn’t have a reputation for unsound mind... “I hired you because you both are relatives”. Reasonable choice of an action boy. Who would give quarter to a rash cutthroat with no supporters?

To disobey the lord, capture and detain Mitsuhide (preferably not in Hanbei’s home Bodaiyama but rather in Gifu which Hideyoshi promised to return to Hanbei) would be dangerous - even if Hanbei didn’t place the shogun under house arrest but threw him into the dungeon⁸.

After a cloud-burst, the downpour subsided, only large drops plopped from the roof. Hanbei listened to Mitsuhide’s beating heart, trying to guess if he was already asleep, or they will wait together until clouds crawl open to draw the wall aside and let the moonlight in.

Hanbei would come out and bent down to watch the raindrops glisten on flower petals and finally roll down, if the moon looked out and he could disturb Mitsuhide and take the lantern.

His brother made it clear that he wasn’t asleep - he seized Hanbei’s hand, kissing the palm, the back of the hand and the wrist, and finally held his hand to his cheek. Gazes met, and Hanbei bent down, wrapping his arms around his brother's neck and kissed him like no tomorrow; reluctantly stopping the hand digging in his groin, he said,

“Want to take a walk?”

“Come on”, Mitsuhide agreed but didn’t let him dress up and began kissing him. Both tangled in the sleeves, half-dressed; Mitsuhide caught his penis, Hanbei responded in kind, not breaking the kiss.

“Later,” Mitsuhide mumbled, slipping out of the clothes, and Hanbei didn’t know what took his breath away - was it Mitsuhide’s lush voice or deranged glint in his eyes.

Mitsuhide moved back to the mat and pulled his brother down on him, settled him on his cock and embraced, ducking Hanbei’s head for a kiss. Soon Hanbei realized Mitsuhide wouldn’t let him adjust the pace and depth - holding by the hips, he moved him like a doll, pretending not to notice Hanbei grimace in pain and loudly, almost with groans, suck air in - until Hanbei began to resist, trying to wriggle out and unhook his hands, and after a brief struggle he fell to one side. He didn’t want to be taken roughly, that would emphasize his worthlessness, that would remind Mitsuhide was stronger, healthier, Demon King’s senior retainer who earned twenty-five times more than Hanbei - that was the reason behind the spiel about brotherhood, about the misadventures of a daring ronin: "And what did you achieve?"

“Sorry, I got carried away”, Mitsuhide grinned. “Shh, don’t go, I'll help.” He reached for the heap of clothes on the floor, pulled a napkin out from the sleeve to wipe his cock. “Sit down.”

Spitting on his hand, he asked Hanbei for more saliva and squeezed both cocks together, turning Hanbei on again until he felt brother’s cock shudder and engorge with blood under the caressing hand. Hanbei cocked his head, hair flipping, hand running over his chest, and froze, licking his lower lip inside the half-open mouth. Mitsuhide kissed him, blindly poking his cock in Hanbei’s scrotum and pubic hair, playfully brushing against his shaft and clutching it again. When the swollen head looked out of the foreskin, Hanbei closed his eyes and buried his face in brother’s neck, smearing the white face paint and pressing into other’s stomach, his quivering cock sandwiched between two bodies. Mitsuhide slumped back, letting Hanbei crawl all over him and rub between his outstretched legs. But as he added some saliva and tried to get inside, Mitsuhide seized him in the arms and flipped him over; mop of gray hair toppled onto Hanbei’s stomach, and he unsuccessfully tried to free his hand and reveal brother's face. Mitsuhide shook his head and muttered with a ragged smile:

“You had...”

Mitsuhide looked somehow touched as Hanbei tucked a gray strand behind his ear, sinking on his knees. He arched his back, buttocks spread, and Mitsuhide's body covered him, chest clinging to his back, hands soothingly stroking him from shoulders to knees. Hanbei cocked his head, tossing hair back, thin neck and shoulder exposed for kisses; flickering wick reflected in his bleary eyes, beckoning lips took a wet kiss. Mitsuhide pressed his forehead against brother’s shoulder and slowly sank into him, hand passing under his belly, lightly squeezing and pulling his balls and cupping the penis head. Hanbei rested his forehead on folded hands, wiping the remnants of face paint. Long silent groan drew air out of his mouth, stretched painfully in a frozen smile.

As he combed his hair and removed traces of make-up, Mitsuhide ordered the servants to prepare a bath with aromatic oil. As the water heated, he asked to bring a lantern. Mitsuhide carried it for Hanbei, lighting the track lined with flat stones, slippery after rain. In a pond floated up-end candle flames, burning in the stone lanterns.

Hanbei squatted down and touched a narrow curved petal. A drop fell on his sandal.

“Why the spider lilies? Here and along the moat, everywhere.”

“Oichi-sama’s symbol.”

“Nobunaga-sama allows her to visit you?” Hanbei didn’t need to add aloud, "after you had riots here."

“The next time I'll have the aconite garden,” Mitsuhide smiled. “But not here. In Nijo.”

Hanbei looked away. Hideyoshi intended to give the usurper two weeks to wipe out and suppress Nobunaga’s men; he would unlikely have time to make arrangements about the garden in shogun’s residence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¹Mitsuhide killed shogun Ashikaga Yoshiaki in the movie “Hideyoshi” (1987). Which is worth Basara!Mitsuhide’s recklessness.
> 
> ²Hanbei’s having three sons was an unverifiable information from some forum in English; I opted to use it because his heir Shigekado was born rather late. Mitsuhide did have more than twenty children (boys and girls; his heir was 14 at the time of the Honnouji incident) but they were executed by Hideyoshi’s men.
> 
> ³The only source on Hanbei’s service under the Rokkaku: "He led troops against the Asai clan of Ômi at the request of the Rokkaku and later joined the Oda family" (http://wiki.samurai-archives.com/index.php?title=Takenaka_Hanbei). His service under Asai is well-known, and since there was no other account on him working for Rokkaku too, I’m inclined to think there was just a typo on Samurai Archives. Though I find it ironic that he allegedly worked for both fighting parties in sequence. Based on the fact Rokkaku and Toki were related and on the assumption he worked for Rokkaku, I made up they helped arrange the putsch in Mino, then gave Hanbei shelter and job and the second syllable in his official name. The real reason of changing 虎 (“tora”) for 治 (“haru”) is unknown to me.
> 
> ⁴As in Sengoku Basara: Battle Heroes, Nagamasa’s storymode.
> 
> ⁵As in Nobunaga’s storymode in SB2 game and SB2 manga.
> 
> ⁶Lord Hanuman holding the hill with Sanjeevini life-restoring herbs: http://uploads.ru/eLDnq.jpg
> 
> Hideyoshi holding Japan in Sengoku Basara anime opening: http://uploads.ru/CxXNZ.jpg
> 
> ⁷As stated in St. Nicholas of Japan’s book on Japanese history, the Akechi weren’t of Minamoto lineage; they gained samurai status in times of civil war.
> 
> ⁸Hanbei has Mitsuhide imprisoned in Inabayama castle in SB2.


End file.
